


Shedding Expectations

by TwistedArtist (redheadsuperpowers)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: EWE, F/M, OOC, PTSD, Post-Hogwarts, Prison, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-09-25 04:03:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20370376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheadsuperpowers/pseuds/TwistedArtist
Summary: Draco Malfoy is in rehabilitation at a wizarding work camp. in the midst of his self pity while there he receives a letter from an unexpected correspondence. He's trying to cling to his reputation, while she's trying to reestablish who she is. -EWE, OOC-cross posted fromFFN





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing project between myself and my oldest, dearest, best friend. No joke, We are 32 now, and we met when we were 9. This is more for fun than serious writing, and is not beta read. She writes from Hermione's POV, I write from Draco's.

Hermione stared at the paper sitting on the desk in front of her. She'd read the letter so many times in the past six months, and each time it still made her sick to her stomach. She hadn't met the person that'd written it, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that Ron had been cheating on her with that woman. Shaking with her anger, Hermione put the letter away again and pulled out a clean sheet of paper and a pen. She could think of one thing that would make her feel better, and so she started to write.

_You,  
Yes, you are the intended recipient of this letter. How are you enjoying your lovely stay at your villa? I do hope that your servants are obeying your every whim. It has been so long since I have talked to you, and I have sorely missed our little "chats"! It would be lovely to hear from you again! Ron and I are no longer together. We broke up about six months ago. Ugh, alright, I cannot lie. Not even to you; Ron and I have been separated for six months, three days, five hours, and 23 minutes. Is it sad that I know that? You were right about him, he is as much a git as you are. He cheated on me, and what's worse, is that I can't hate her for it or blame him. She's gorgeous, you see, so why wouldn't he want to be with her instead? Then to make matters worse, she was kind enough to hex him when she found out about me, and then write me a letter telling me everything. It doesn't stop the pain though. You've always been so good at blocking out your emotions, and I truly envy you that ability._

Hermione stopped writing and read over the letter, shaking her head she continued.

_I don't know where I got off track. How did this letter go from snide towards you, to me pouring my heart out to you? You can think whatever you want, you bloody tosser, but by the time you can use this against me, I will already be over it! You will never be able to hurt me the way your family did during the war!_  
Sincerely,  
Hermione Granger 

She looked it over once more, nodded, the placed it carefully inside of an envelope, and owled it to the intended receiver.

"Mail Call! Nott, Zabini, Parkinson... Malfoy!" Draco sat up and stared at the guard rather bewildered. The man glared at him, and thrust the envelope through the bars again. Draco stood and rushed over to get the letter. He looked down at his name. It was written in beautiful script, a hand he did not recognize.

'figures... it's probably some ministry bull. Mum never writes me, and Father has been gone for a few months now.' his thoughts were bitter. With a sigh he dropped onto his bunk and ripped open the letter. He sneered as he read it.

'So the mudblood is looking to annoy me. Well, lets see how she likes my response.' he got up and rifled through the drawers at the foot of his bed. He dug out a pencil and some paper.

_Mudblood,_

_So kind of you to inquire how my stay at my 'villa' is going. As if you don't know exactly where I am._  
After all, your beloved Scarhead and Weasel put me here... Oh wait. You don't love the Weasel anymore. How delightful. For a blood traitor even he grew a brain.  
I cant believe you have the audacity to write me. I almost cant believe that I'm writing you back. Here's to the end of a bad thing. 

_Delightfully yours,_

_D. Malfoy_

Draco signed with a flourish so hard he tore the paper a bit. He jammed the note into an envelope, and stuck it through the bars.

"Outgoing!" he growled as the guard took the letter.

"You know we read these right Malfoy?"

"Yes. It doesn't matter." the guard shrugged and took the paper from the young man. With a sharp nod, Draco stomped over to his bed to wait for work call to start.

Hermione sat at her desk, trying hard to refrain from pulling out her dreaded letter. She let her head thump down upon her desk and just sat there like that for a good ten minutes, before she heard the unmistakable sound of an owl. She looked up just as an owl dropped a letter on the desk in front of her. She read it over, her features remain impassive, while her eyes shined with anger.

_Malfoy,_

_First his name is not Scarhead, it's Harry! Perhaps it's a good thing that you're in there! Maybe it will give you time to actually try and work on your intelligence for the first time in you miserable little life! I take back what I said; you're an even bigger git than you are! The war is over you miserable little good for nothing ferret! GET OVER IT! As for him being a blood traitor, being able to see past a person's own bloody nose does not make one a blood traitor. It simply means that they're not a stuck up, lousy, piece of scum that feel's they're Merlin's gift to the earth! Now, I'm so sorry that you're not enjoying your stay at a place where you're not treated like the god that you think that you are, but I do believe it will do you some good to have a healthy dose of a reality check!_

_Always,_

_Hermione Granger_

Hermione attached her response letter to the owl's leg and sent him on his way. She smiled, Draco may be a real git, but this was starting to make her feel better for the first time since she'd gotten that letter. She stood and stretched. It was time to get to work on cleaning house.

Draco stared at the paper. The audacity of the woman! He glared at his ceiling for a moment.

_Granger,_

_I know his name, I choose not to use it you sanctimonious cow. I don't even want you writing me! Quit reminding me how far I have fallen! How I went from Slytherin Sex God to having to watch my back in the showers I will never know. And what, no defense for me calling the Weasel names? Hmm? I'm not the only one that needs to get over previous assumptions. Being Pureblood doesn't mean I'm the only one with prejudices! Why dont you learn a little more about my traditions, huh? Your nose is always in a book anyway! Merlin, I HATE YOU woman! Learn to respect your betters!_

_Bite Me,_

_Malfoy_

He sealed the letter and stuck it out of the bars. He was nearly back to his bed when the bell rang signaling the start of work for the day.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione laughed aloud as she read his latest letter. Oh she could not resist the temptation to send him a reply.

_Malfoy_

_It would appear that I was correct, no big surprise there, honestly. You do need to crack open some books every once in a while. Let us go over how you began your letter, shall we? Now I appreciate that you wanted to insult me, you pathetic excuse for a man, but I would appreciate it if from now on you insulted me properly. Sanctimonious, meaning, excessively or hypocritically pious. Pious, meaning, having, showing, or expressing reverence for a deity. So in other words, you just called me a farm animal that either excessively or hypocritically shows reverence for a deity. Now I'm sure that you can do better than that! Honestly, I do not particularly care if you want to call Ronald a weasel. I am not exactly on the best of terms with him at the moment after all. I am sure that I have called him worse things than you have, truth be told. As far as my constantly having had my nose in a book, does not mean that I am prejudice, it merely means that I do not care to be an uneducated ferret. Much like you are as a matter of fact. Now, you want me to learn more about your traditions, is that right? Do they include torturing people that are not "pure blood", as your aunt did? Or just being bias against all that don't share the same beliefs about a witch or wizard's blood status? Honestly Malfoy, no one is better than anyone else in the sense that you are referring to. That being said, I do not need to respect one that has never shown me any respect._

_Get a clue,  
Hermione Granger._

Hermione laughed once more as she sent the letter off with the owl, and picked up a book to read. Her first one in seven months!

_Granger:_

_Only a complete bint would correct my grammar whilst I was insulting them! And do not accuse me of my aunt's crimes. I have no love for the woman, and she had less for me. I have the scars to prove it. I'm not the only one with a lack of respect for others beliefs. Have you ever stopped to ask WHY I was brought up the way I was? Or WHAT the purpose of it was? Or even WHO decided this? Of course not. You just blamed me, and laughed in my face when I was sentenced. I wished many many things on you Granger, but until that moment, I never wished your death. So, as you see, I may learn to respect you, but only if you learn to respect me._

_D. Malfoy_

Draco slammed his head back against the thin excuse for a pillow. He was sore, and the blisters on his hands had broken open again. He dearly hoped that he hadn't left any blood on that letter. He didn't need the witch getting a hold of anything tied to him. He turned over and tried to get comfortable, listening to his bunk-mate snore above him. Tears came to his eyes as he let his mind drift. How pathetic was it that the only person who deemed to remember his existence was the one who had every reason to see him rot here. He shook off the melancholy feelings and let himself drift to sleep. After all, morning came too soon in this hell hole.

Hermione stared in horrified shock at the back of the letter, it wasn't much, but it was still there. Plain as the nose on her face, she was staring at blood, and she instinctively knew that it was his. Taking a deep breath she pulled out a blank piece of parchment and sat down to write another response.

_Draco,_

_You are right. I never have asked. Well I am now. Please explain to me why you did what you did. After you tell me that, then I shall decide whether or not you deserve any of my respect. Until that point, I shall talk to you and treat you and way I deem you're worth. Now, with that being said, I am not sure what caused the blood, but I am enclosing some healing salve. I do hope that it will help. Before I lose my wits completely, I will end this. Else I might go completely round the bend and try and help you any more. Otherwise, Harry might start think I care what happens to a miserable tosser such as yourself._

_Have fun!_

_Hermione Granger_

Deftly, she put together a healing salve mixed together from different plants, thanking Merlin that she'd excelled in all her classes in school, including herbology. She put the salve into a small package, then attached it and the letter to the owl's leg, and sent him on his way. Hermione pulled out her book again and curled up on the couch to read, but found it difficult as she kept wondering what had caused Draco to bleed.

Draco looked at the letter, than at the salve in his hands. He couldn't believe she had sent him the stuff. The wheels in his brain kept spinning until something clicked. He started shaking as he quickly scribbled a note.

_Granger:_

_I want that letter back. Send it._

_D. Malfoy_

A few hours had passed, and Draco had fallen asleep. He awoke to a lot of noise, curses and hexes flying around. He stuck his head out of the door to see a full scale riot going on. He turned to duck back into his room only to be hit by a nasty curse. As he watched the world fade to black around him the only thought on his mind was if she would care that he was dead.

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_This letter is written to inform you that the prisoner you have been corresponding with, Draco L Malfoy, is currently in St. Mungo's undergoing treatment for the injuries he received in a riot occurring last night. If you wish to make further inquiries as to his well being, I suggest you contact the ministry as he is no longer an inmate with this facility._

_Warden C.J. Buckett_


	3. Chapter 3

Staring down at the paper in shock, Hermione shook her head. How could that be? Not that long ago he'd been flinging insults back and forth with her, and now he was in the hospital? Not wanting to wait to talk to the ministry, she apparated to St. Mungo's where she immediately ran into the one woman that she should hate, but was unable to.  
"Mona, I need to know what room Draco Malfoy is in," She told the exotic looking woman standing before her. Hermione envied her for her beauty. She had knee length, thick, straight, sleek, black hair and beautiful dark green eyes. Surprisingly though, she was not conceited, she was very sweet.  
"Sure thing, 'Mione, I was actually just on my way there," She told her with a smile.  
Hermione followed her then gasped when she saw Draco lying on the bed. He was ashen, his hair hung lank, like it hadn't been washed in weeks, he was nude from the waist up, his ribs were bandaged, but that didn't stop him from noticing his magnificent chest. Her evaluation stopped there as she became distracted.  
"I'll leave you two alone," She heard Mona saying, "He may be unconscious, but there's still a possibility that he can hear you if you talk to him. It may even help him."  
Nodding, the frizzy haired witch took Draco's hand into her own, and smoothed his hair out of his face with her other one, "I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I pray to Merlin that you can. If you are able to hear me, then listen to me, Draco Malfoy, you had best get better if you know what's good for you! You will not leave me alone, not when talking to you has been helping me to rediscover who I am!" She felt a tear fall down her cheek and watched as it splattered onto his arm, "You have to get better, if not for yourself, then for my sanity."  
Stroking back his hair one last time, Hermione turned to leave then stopped and wrote him a note.

_Malfoy,_

_I always knew that you were an uneducated git, but I never thought that you would be stupid enough to get yourself hurt this badly! You're a real moron, you know that? Then to top it all off, you're laying here sleeping like the twit that you are!_

_Get better!_

_Hermione Granger_

After placing the note on the table by his bed, she turned and left the room, apparating back to her flat, where she got into a shower and allowed her tears free reign.

Draco opened his eyes, and immediately slammed them shut. The lights were way to bright, his mouth tasted awful, his head ached like he had been on a three day drinking binge, and his ribs hurt so bad he could barely breathe. He shifted and felt a strange tug on his arm. Looking over he realized that there was an IV in his arm. He sat up and looked around wildly. He panicked momentarily, until he realized he was in the hospital.

'At least I'm not dead' he shifted to the edge of the bed, and swung his legs down. He looked up and realized that he was facing a mirror. He grimaced as he took in how he looked. His hair was far to long, and looked horrible. He was even paler than normal, and had taken on the pallor of a vampire. There was a new scar on his left cheekbone, still rather pink. His body was littered with bruises, and he could feel the pull of magical stitches on his side. He also figured he must have three or four broken ribs based on the difficulty he was having breathing. He sat there and concentrated on breathing for a few minutes. He was just about to stand when the door opened. A pretty mediwitch came in. He took in her appearance. Her hair was rather long, and very dark. Her skin tone was quite dark, as if she had spent years in the sun. Her green eyes sparkled as she rushed over to him.

"Mr Malfoy, we cant have you moving around yet!" His eyes widened as he took in a distinctive Pacific Islander accent. He let her fuss over him as he settled back into the bed.

"How did I get here? Why am I not in the camp infirmary?" he finally rasped out at the woman.

"That's not for me to say sir. There's a ministry official waiting to speak with you, and when that's done, There is a note from Hermione for you."

"Granger was here?"

"Of course she was. She came over as soon as she got the owl from the Warden." The woman smiled as she messed with the IV stand for a moment. She turned and walked to the door. "Ill just be sending in the man from the ministry now."

"Wait!"

"Yes?"

"If your going to be fussing over me, I would like to know your name."

"It's Mona Kealoha, and yes, before you say anything, I am American, and I am muggle born. Deal with it, and don't act like a pompous ass. I've been quite gentle in your care so far. Don't make me want to change that." With a smirk and a toss of that waterfall of hair, she flounced out of the room. Draco flopped back on the bed and sighed.

His eyes had just started to flutter closed, but snapped back open when the door opened again. The man came in, looking at Draco with disdain. Draco barely resisted the urge to sneer back. The man stood at the foot of the bed and stared at him a bit longer.

"Well Malfoy, I dont know how you managed it, but your now out of rehabilitation camp. A full year early." Draco stared at the man in shock.

"I'm out? How, wha- why? Eh?" He was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. The man smirked.

"The ministry has decided that you'll learn more by finishing your sentence doing community service. Not in our world, but by working in a muggle... soup kitchen I believe is what its called. You'll be boarded by a member of the ministry, and be given a small allowance for whatever you may need. Someone will be here the day after tomorrow to pick you up." The man explained a bit more about what Draco was about to be shoved into, and then left. The former Death-Eater lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He sat up when he remembered that the mediwitch had said Granger had left him a note. He looked around, and spotted it on the side table next to the bed.

_Granger,_

_Uneducated my arse! I received a year more of education than you if you recall! I didn't plan on getting hurt you know. Where is that last letter I sent you. I still want it back. I'll only be here for two more days. After that... well, I'm sure Potter knows where there sending me. Ask him. I want that letter before I leave. Oh, and WHY did you come to the hospital when you heard I was here? Your healer friend mentioned it. She's kind of scary._

_Malfoy_

Smiling at the reply that Mona had sent out for Draco, the young witch racked her brain for a way to respond to him.

_Malfoy,_

_You may have spent one extra year than I did at school, but my grades have ALWAYS been better than yours. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Harry had gotten better grades than you as well. As for your last letter, why would you want me to send you something that has already been thrown into the trash? That just does not make sense, but then I must remember who I am talking to. The lord of the prats! You think that Mona is scary? Ha! I doubt that! Forgive me if I find it hard to believe that you're not attracted to her. Forgive me for trying to check on you after hearing about what had happened!_

_What a relief it was to see that you looked just as good as you did in school! I was afraid the hex might have given you something worth seeing! Merlin knows it would have been an improvement!_

_You're a real bloody tosser!_

_Hermione Granger_

She folded the letter up, tears falling down her cheeks as she remembered once more the day she'd found out about Ron and Mona. She sent her response, and then laid down in a hot bubble bath, to soak away her sorrows. After only a few minutes went by, she bolted upright, wiping away the tears still on her face. Did she get any on the letter? Oh Merlin! She prayed that she didn't, knowing he'd use that weakness against her. Forcing herself to relax, Hermione lay back once more.

So what if he did, she still had the blood letter and could use that in retaliation, though she knew that she never would.

Draco got out of the bed, and pulled on the scrubs that the nurse had brought him. He didn't know who would be picking him up, only that it was a man from the ministry. He sighed as he settled into a chair, wincing as his almost healed ribs sent a twinge of pain across him. He looked down at the letter he had gotten from Hermione. He hadn't answered it yet, and he didn't know why. He let his head fall back and he stared at the ceiling for a moment. The door opened, and Draco just stared at the man for a moment.

"Potter!"

"Malfoy."

"What are you..." He trailed off, flabbergasted.

"I am your new keeper. You'll be staying at Grimmauld Place with me, and walking to your new 'job' from there. It's only a few blocks, count yourself lucky. It was me, or Astoria Greengrass, and from what I hear, she thinks you are a traitor to the Dark Lord, and had some... unique plans for you to earn your upkeep if you went to her." The bespectacled man snickered. "At least in my home you'll have some privacy, and a house elf to cook, as I'm sure you have NO clue how to even make a sandwich"

"I do too! You get the, and then the... Fine. I am hopeless. That doesn't explain why it had to be you."

"Have you ever wondered how you didn't end up in Azkaban to rot like the other Death-Eaters?"

"Sometimes... I just figured it was because I didn't actually kill anyone."

"Wrong. I testified on your behalf. I mentioned that you avoided identifying us when we were brought to your house. Also, your actions in the Room of Requirement. If it weren't for me, you would probably be dead. And I didn't save your life once, just to let them throw it away. Now, can we be on our way?" Draco nodded at Harry. He stood slowly, and shuffled out of the room. The two men took the elevators down to the apparation point. Draco started shuffling around.

"What?" Harry asked as he took Draco by the elbow.

"Cant we take the floos, I hate-" He was cut off by the pop of side along apparation.

They landed on the front step, and Draco immediately turned to the side and lost the contents of his stomach. He could hear Harry chuckling behind him. He heaved a few more times, then turned to glare.

"Does that happen every time?" Harry spit out between chuckles.

"Unfortunately."

"Well then, I guess I will have to set the floo wards to you, because I am not dealing with that every time you have to go to the ministry." Draco just nodded, and followed the man inside. He glanced around. They were standing in a hallway, with stairs off to his right. There were curtains over something on the wall. Draco cautiously approached them.

"FILTH, MUDBLOODS, DIRT IN MY HO- Oh, hello Draco. How is my darling Cissy my boy?" Draco stared at the portrait from his position on the floor. He had fallen over when the woman had started shrieking. He got to his feet, with an arm wrapped around his now throbbing ribs.

"Erm. She's fine. Thanks." He looked at Harry. The man pulled a wand out, and waved it lazily at the portrait. The curtains slid over it, silencing the woman once more.

"Er, was that?"

"Your Grandmother Black, if Sirius was to be believed. That was the most civil I've ever seen her. You should have heard the things she said when Hermione was living here." The man smirked. "Now, let me show you your room." He headed up the stairs gesturing for Draco to follow. The stairwell was covered in photographs. There were pictures of the Golden Trio in school, and of the Weasley family. There was even one of Hermione and Victor Krum at the Yule Ball from fourth year. As he looked at that one, a flash of blonde caught his eye. He leaned a little closer, and saw himself. His photo self was glaring at the couple, but still looked sad. That was around the time when his father had started training him in earnest. He shrugged off the old memories, and continued up the stairs. Harry was waiting for him a few doors down the hall.

"This will be your room. We call it the tree room, and well, you'll see why." He opened the door. Draco stepped in and his eyes were immediately drawn to the family tree tapestry on the wall opposite the bed. Harry stepped in behind him. "I couldn't get it down, but with a little creative spell work, and some intense research, Hermione was able to repair some of the damage. Your grandmother blasted half the family off at one point." Harry crossed the room and opened another door. "Anyways, this is your bathroom. Feel free to freshen up. Dinner is in an hour, and tomorrow morning I have to take you to the ministry to receive the rest of the information on your case." He turned to leave.

"Potter?"

"Thanks... and, do you have an owl I could borrow?"

"Um, I don't have an owl. Just bring your letter to dinner, and I'll get it sent."

_Granger,_

_Did you know about this? That I was being sent to live with your precious Potter? I bet your just living it up at that. HA! And, as for grades, I was second in the class thank you very much. AND that woman is scary. She threatened to hex my bollocks off if I didn't stop whining! Oh, and quit spilling things on your letters. It's bad enough that you send them, but having water spots all over it isn't pleasant either. And I don't care if you threw the letter out, I still want it back. Calling me names wont help. I'm pretty much immune to anything you can throw at me anymore. Oh, and by the by, I am still the perfect godlike specimen I was in school, just with a few new decorations._

_Malfoy_


	4. Four

"Oh really?" She asked herself as she looked down at his letter once more, "Godlike specimen!" She said with a laugh. Shaking her head, Hermione walked into the kitchen and prepared herself a pot of tea. Once it was finished, she poured herself a cup then went to sit on her couch with her book. Sighing, the young women set the unopened book down and walked back to her desk so that she might finally write a reply letter. Three days had gone by since she'd received his latest rambling.

_Pompous Arse,_

_What does it matter to you whether I knew about your living arrangements or not? After all, I am nothing more than a filthy mudblood as far as you're concerned, but I might be willing to give_ _ you your letter back, on conditions. Go to do your job at the kitchen, and treat all the muggles there with respect and kindness. For one week I want you to do that. Think that you can handle that, Ferret Face? Or is that too hard for the poor, little, Sl_ _ytherin prince? It's alright if it is, after all, not everyone is fit to call themselves human. Anyways, if you really want that letter back, you'd best get started. I will keep up with your progress through Harry, so you will not be able to lie to me abou_ _t it._

_Enjoy yourself,_

_Hermione Granger_

* * *

Draco had been to the ministry and heard the terms of his new sentence. He had to work in this kitchen for a year, Sunday through Thursday. He would receive his wand, under heavy restrictions, if he was able to stay out of trouble for six months. If he could go nine, his wand would be fully restored. He would be supervised by someone from the wizarding world, but they would not reveal themselves to him. After the year was over, he would be free.

Harry had taken him out to buy some clothes with the allowance the ministry was giving him. He shrugged into a zip up sweatshirt, and slid his feet into a pair of canvas trainers. The clothes felt foreign. Even when he had to dress like a muggle when he was younger, he had been in slacks. The denim trousers felt odd, and a little stiff. He checked his hair in the bathroom mirror, and trudged down the stairs. He stuck his head into the parlor where Harry was sitting fiddling with some muggle electronic.

"What do you have there?" Draco asked after a moment.

"It's called a game-boy. You're going to be late if you don't get going."

"Goodbye then." Draco walked out the door, and down the street, following the path he had been shown by Harry a few days beforehand. The soup kitchen was run out of the basement of a church. The building was rather new, and had a large generous congregation. Draco walked around to the back of the building, and knocked on the door marked 'volunteers'. The door swung open to reveal a short sandy haired man. Draco looked down. The man squinted up at him.

"You must be that Bad Faith kid." The man waved him in with a soup ladle. "Come on, let's get to work."

"I'm sorry, what did you just call me?"

"Your name means Bad Faith don't it?" The man turned around.

"Well, yes, but I prefer-" The man cut him off with a wave.

"You will answer to what I call you. Understand?" Draco took a step backwards. He knew from experience just how brutal a small statured person could be. He quickly nodded and stepped into the room.

"You can call me D."

"D?"

"Yeah, D." Draco nodded again, and continued into the kitchen. He was greeted with a cacophony. He winced and narrowly avoided embarrassing himself by covering his ears. He shrugged out of his jacket and looked around for a place to hang it. D waved a hand at a nearly buried coat rack. Draco hurriedly deposited the jacket.

"You'll be peeling carrots and potatoes Bad Faith," Draco winced at the title. "Does it bother you that much?" The man finally muttered at the youth.

"It reminds me of my past... and my father." Draco shuddered when he mentioned his father. The man narrowed his eyes at him.

"I guess you'll have to be Blondie than." the man snickered. He walked over and rummaged through a drawer. Pulling out a peeler, he walked over to Draco and handed it to him. Draco took the device and followed him across the room. They stopped in front of a large door. D opened it to reveal a mountain of potatoes and carrots.

"I need you to fill that bin with potatoes before you leave today," The man pointed at a 50 gallon container. "And that one with carrots." He pointed at a similar 30 gallon bin.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. You don't fill them, the people don't get to eat tomorrow." Draco pulled a face, and flopped onto the chair in the closet.

"The peels go into the drum next to you. We sell them to a farmer." Draco sighed and resigned himself to wasting a day.

Draco flopped back onto his bed stiffly. He had filled the drums, and he had done it by hand. He yawned and reached for the pad of paper sitting on his nightstand.

_Granger,_

_Day one completed. And I won't use that word anymore if you agree to stop calling me a tosser. I am in no way a tosser. I prefer woman. Merlin woman, I had no idea how hard mugg__les make things on themselves! I had to use this small razor thing to peel a veritable mountain of potatoes. Now, as you asked awhile back, I'll let you in on a secret. My father hated me. I have __more healed bones, and scars __from him than even Potter inf__licted with that damned _Sectemsempra_ curse in sixth year. I was raised to believe blood purity was everything. I just did as I was told. Don't blame me for my family's shortcomings. Oh, and on Aunt Bella, if I could remove her from this damn tapestry in my__ room I would. The things she did to people made Greybeck look merciful. Anyways, I'm doing my job. Just keep your end of the bargain._

_Malfoy_

Draco wiped the single tear that had slid down his face away, and folded the letter up to send. He didn't know how Harry dealt with the mail, so he would have to trust him not to read the missive.

* * *

Smirking was actually fun. No wonder why he'd done it so much, Hermione thought as she smirked at his letter. Oh, he was doing his job, yes, but he seemed to have missed that she'd said conditions, not condition. She chuckled softly to herself, he was not going to like her, but she believed that these conditions would help to better him.

_Prat,_

_I am able to accept that. I shall not call you a tosser anymore. What you used, is called a peeler, not a razor. Yes, the muggle way of doing things may seem difficult to you, but that's just because you are a spoiled twat that's not had to do things like this, even with magic. Muggles have never had magic, and so they know no other way. I'm sorry that you had to have a family that treated you the way yours did, no one should have to go through that. I will hold up my end of the deal, you suspicious twat!_

_Enjoy!_

_Hermione Granger_

* * *

When Friday morning dawned, Draco was more sore and stiff than he had been since the first time the Dark Lord deemed him a failure. He groaned as he rolled out of bed. He sat for a moment, then hauled himself to his feet and shuffled into the bathroom. He had been able to talk Harry into mixing up his favorite soaps and oils the other day, so he took a long leisurely shower. He took his time shaving, and finally pulled on some clothes. Nothing was as nice as he had once had, but Harry seemed to have a talent for finding an okay deal, so Draco was better dressed than he could be. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it slightly, and shuffled over to his nightstand. He picked up Hermione's last letter and his notepad, and meandered down the stairs.

He flopped down on one of the long benches flanking the kitchen table. Kreacher appeared and handed him a cup of tea, and a muffin. Draco nodded at the elf, and turned to his notepad.

_Granger,_

_I'm shocked that your nosy self didn't resort to asking more questions about my family history. It's nice to know that even you have limits. I have completed one successful week of backbreaking hard labor at this job. My end is complete, now please give me back the letter. See, I can be civil. I even said 'please'. As you are muggle born, I do have a few questions over some things I have heard and seen at the kitchen. For one, why does the cook keep calling me 'Blondie' then snickering? I know I am missing something... but I'm not sure what. Also, is it standard practice to hit someone over the head with a soup ladle for sneaking a taste of the food being cooked? The cook, who goes by D, seems to think it is. I have even been struck, and all I did was ask him a question. In retrospect, as he is a muggle, and American, I may have said something wrong. Anyways, as I do not have to return to the kitchen until Sunday, I would appreciate some insight._

_Malfoy_

_P.S. Calling me a 'twat' is not very nice. It's worse than tosser._

_P.P.S. Sorry this letter reeks of spearmint, Kreacher knocked over some cooking things, and my notepad conveniently soaked up the mint oil. I hope it's not too offensive, as any further correspondence will likely smell the same._

* * *

_Ferret,_

_I am very glad that you learned how to be civil. Blondie, is a popular muggle singer from America, so it is quite likely that he is referring to her. Smacking you with the ladle, could very well be a sign of affection. Meaning that you being kind to the muggles actually made you a friend. I actually quite enjoy the smell of spearmint, so it is nothing to worry about where I am concerned._

_Enjoy your days off!_

_Hermione Granger_

After signing her name, the young witch stared at the paper, seriously considering scenting it as well, but she decided not to. The pompous git had a big enough head as it was. No sense making it any bigger.


End file.
